The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the thick canopy of trees as Joren and Gus pushed open the creaking door of the Lantern Inn. The building sat snug against the edge of the swamp, its weathered wood worn soft by years of rain and mist. A faint plume of smoke curled from the crooked chimney, promising warmth and shelter from the damp chill outside.
Inside, the inn was dim but cozy. The scent of burning wood mingled with herbs and something baked, filling the air with comfort. A few tired travelers sat nursing mugs and quietly exchanging stories by the hearth. Maerle, the stout innkeeper with sharp eyes and a quick smile, greeted them from behind the counter. "Well, you two look like you've walked half the day. If you're looking for food and rest, you've come to the right place."
Maerle nodded and busied herself with getting them a key for their room. "You're welcome to rest here as long as you like. Are you two heading to Duskfen or somewhere else?" Joren answered for them both. "Yeah, Duskfen's the plan. Heard there's some interesting things to see there." Maerle handed them the keys with a warm smile. "Well, if you're looking for a bit of peace before the swamp, you've come to the right place. Just be careful once the sun sets, there are rumors of things out in the forest." She straightened with a practiced cheer. "Now then. Room's upstairs, second on the right. Supper's stew and bread, so get some when you get settled in."
Gus took the key with a grateful nod. "Thanks. Rumors or not, a roof and hot food sound just fine by me." Joren glanced toward the window, where the sunlight had already begun to dim beneath the thickening canopy outside. "What kind of rumors?" he asked casually, but Maerle just waved a hand. "Oh, nothing worth worrying about. I haven't personally seen anything, but those rumors sure spread. People haven't been traveling by as often, bad for business you know."
Late Evening – The Inn
Joren and Gus climbed the creaking stairs to the second floor, the inn's old wood groaning beneath their steps. Their room was small but clean, with two simple beds pressed against opposite walls and a square window that looked out toward the forest. Gus dropped his satchel with a relieved grunt. "Beds and no bugs. Luxury." Joren cracked the window slightly to let in some air, the scent of damp moss and wood smoke drifting in. He closed it right after opening.
They took a few minutes to freshen up and settle their things, then headed back downstairs where the scent of stew was now unmistakably rich. A few more travelers had gathered in the common room, bowls in hand, seated at different tables and lounge chairs. Maerle moved briskly between them all, ladling stew into bowls and sliding bread onto wooden plates with the efficiency of someone who'd done it for decades. When she spotted Joren and Gus descending, she offered them a brief nod and held up two fingers. "Still warm," she said, disappearing into the kitchen and returning moments later with two steaming bowls and thick slices of bread slathered with a bit of butter.
Joren and Gus took a spot near the hearth, where a gentle fire crackled and popped. The chairs were mismatched and sunken in the middle, but they were blissfully comfortable. The warmth of the food, the hush of low conversation, and the soft clinking of spoons and mugs gave the inn an almost timeless feel. Across the room, a trio of older women whispered intently by the window, occasionally glancing toward the glass. A dog slept near the door, twitching in its dreams. "You can't go out after sunset, I heard. They say the Ghostlights come out."
The other two women leaned in closer, their hunched forms illuminated by the soft orange glow of the hearth. "Old Jarrow saw one last week, out by the west ditch. He said it started chasing him, howling a terrifying sound as well." The pale-haired one gave a slow shake of her head, her drink forgotten in her hands. "He ran so fast he lost a shoe in the mud. Came pounding on Maerle's door barefoot and weeping. Swore he'd never walk alone after sunset again."
As the fire crackled low and dusk crept in like a hush over the forest, Maerle reemerged from the back hall with a slight frown, wiping her hands on her apron. She approached Joren and Gus, glancing once toward the window where the last threads of sunlight clung to the trees.
"Sorry to trouble you boys when you've only just arrived," she began, voice hushed, "but one of my stablehands hasn't come back from fetching water. I sent him out to the well just before sundown, which I never do, mind you, but we had a leak earlier, and we're near dry." Her fingers tapped anxiously at her apron. "It's not far, just down the path behind the inn. If you find him for me, I can offer you two free nights." "We'll check it out," Joren said before she could finish. "If it's just the path out back, it shouldn't take long." Maerle gave a grateful nod, though her eyes lingered warily on the darkening window.
Gus leaned back slightly, raising a brow. "How long's he been gone?" Maerle glanced toward the clock behind the counter. "Over an hour now. He should've been back in twenty minutes. I'd go myself, but… well, I've got the guests to tend to." Her thoughts trailed off. Joren exchanged a glance with Gus. The free lodging was tempting, especially after so many nights outdoors. "Just point us toward the well." Maerle's shoulders relaxed a touch. "Bless you both. There's a lantern by the back door. Follow the path till you reach a stone marker and you should see a small building."
Night – Outside the Inn
The door creaked open behind them, releasing a plume of warm air that vanished into the thickening mist. Joren stepped out first, the lantern casting a soft orange halo that barely pierced the growing darkness. The damp scent of moss and decaying leaves clung to the air, and every twig snap underfoot seemed louder than it should have. Gus followed close behind, adjusting his shirt. "Not too spooky yet," he muttered, though his eyes kept darting to the shadows between the trees. Gus began whistling a tune to keep him from getting nervous.
The path behind the inn was narrow, overgrown at the edges with swamp grass and crooked roots. The fog rolled low and thick, curling around their boots and swallowing sound like a blanket. Joren tightened his grip on the lantern. "There's the marker," he said, pointing to a squat stone figure covered in lichen. Beyond it, barely visible through the gloom, stood a small wooden shack; the well house. Gus gave a low whistle. "Looks like this place has been here forever." He took a cautious step forward, the lantern's glow flickering across the weathered wood of the shack. A chorus of distant croaks echoed from the swamp, layered with soft, eerie whistles that seemed almost too deliberate.
Joren glanced over his shoulder, the lantern's glow barely holding back the encroaching darkness. "We shouldn't linger out here." Gus nodded, his usual confidence giving way to caution. "Yeah, let's see if the guy is here." They moved toward the wooden door of the shack, its hinges creaking ominously as Gus pushed it open. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp wood and earth, the faint sound of dripping water echoing. It was far brighter inside as it had its own lights. As they entered, they found the stablehand fixing the broken pulley system, his hands busy untangling frayed ropes.
The stablehand looked up, surprised but visibly relieved. He was a young man with calloused hands and deep lines around his eyes, likely from all the maintenance he does for the Inn. Joren set the lantern on a nearby crate, casting steady light across the small space. "Maerle sent us. She said you could use a hand." The man chuckled. "Could use more than that," the man muttered, pulling at a stubborn knot. "Pulley's near shot. Without it, no fresh water from the well. The rope isnt exactly the problem, I can replace that just fine. The problem is that the bucket we use fell down and I can't reach it."
Gus stepped forward, rubbing his chin as he eyed the well. "Fell all the way in, huh?" The stablehand nodded. "Yeah. The rope snapped clean through when it hit a bad patch earlier." Joren tilted his head, considering. "I think I might be able to get it back up." The stablehand looked between them, hope flickering in his tired eyes. "If you can manage it, you'll be saving the whole place a lot of trouble. No water means no breakfast in the morning." Gus gave Joren a quick nod. "Well, you've been practicing. Let's see what you can do."
Joren approached the well, cool air wafting up from the depths. He knelt by the rim, resting a hand against the damp stone, and closed his eyes. This distance wasn't so bad, it just took a little more focus to release the gravity on it. He exhaled slowly, focusing. His palm hovered over the opening, fingers spread. A gentle pull of gravity shifted around the object, not enough to yank or jolt it upwards, just enough to coax it to come back up. Bit by bit, the iron-rimmed bucket rose into sight, still slick with water and swaying gently in the unseen force holding it aloft. Joren guided it carefully to the edge where Gus caught it with both hands and set it down with a soft thud.
The stablehand let out a breath of pure relief. "You two just saved the whole place a heap of trouble. I'll make sure Maerle knows." Gus clapped Joren on the shoulder. "Not bad at all. You're really getting the hang of that." Joren allowed himself a small grin. "Come on," Gus said, hefting the empty bucket. "Let's get back to the Inn before she changes her mind." The three stepped out into the cool night air, unaware of what awaited them on their trek back.